Ngitomwonangikanikauni

Ten-and-eight. Yep, that’s me. Eighteen. When I was little, I wanted to be eighteen. When I was a preteen, I wanted to be eighteen. Yesterday, I wanted to be eighteen. And now I am.

So far, I’ve celebrated by
– eating scrambled eggs with maple syrup
– wearing a headband that I like
– getting a really cool necklace. Really.
– getting a really cool mug.
– making really good soup.
– running around in the rain in heels. (anna’s heels, incidentally.)
– going through my 2007 – 08 scrapbook
– drinking real coffee. Twice.
– teaching Faith and James. I do that pretty much every day, but it was still pretty celebratory
– carrying a bag of maize across the overflowed culvert
– eating roasted maize on the way home from the clinic
– singing “The Gambler” at the TOP of my lungs on the way home

So far, so good. A lot of random things that were just kind of extra-fun. I do most of them every day, or at least once a week.

I’ve been told many times that being ridiculously excited about getting older is a passing phase. But guess what? Next year I’m going to be NINEteen. Even better.

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